In our home we call Ravenholm,

everyone is on edge; no one is calm

No one knows how hard it is, to be a zombine

because all we wanna do is give gifts and be kind

All we want to do is give our grenades

and chortle our lovely, but creepy serenades

No one understands us, how we feel

We come to greet you not eat you

we dont think of you as a seven course meal

we run because we are excited to see others

our fellow combine, with love; we try to smother

But no one is very kind, so now we have changed our minds;

we are going to ensue the destruction of combine

and any remaining humans...

We live to die, and now you my friend;

are soon going to be mince..meat...pie.